


Man Overboard

by pherryt



Series: New Clint Barton Bingo [15]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Boats, Broken Promises, Canon Typical Violence, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Mission Gone Wrong, Mutual Pining, Pining, Snuggling, Traveling, bucky pov, competent clint, compromised, deaf!Clint, extraction, humor too, hurt!bucky, naked!clint, oblivious idiots, why is clint naked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24785386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: When their covers are blown, Bucky and Clint must make their way to the backup extraction point. They didn't count on their transport getting blown up or that the bad guys would get in a lucky shot...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Winterhawk
Series: New Clint Barton Bingo [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540606
Comments: 37
Kudos: 160
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020, Clint Barton Bingo, Clintucky Fried Bunnies





	Man Overboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyishBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/gifts), [crazycatt71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazycatt71/gifts).



> Clint Barton Bingo – I1 : Broken Promises  
> Bucky Barnes Bingo – Y1: waiting for Extraction  
> From one of my Winterhawk Servers - this image was shared by crazycatt71 and then greyishblue plot bunnied and somehow i got volunteered to write this:
> 
> (Image is NSFW so i'm going to link it instead of show it)  
> [Naked Canoe Pic](https://66.media.tumblr.com/008667bcda3239b68c5ff826d5fd75b8/a842efc2e348cd92-52/s500x750/55c3d8027baaf5d0add9b09d431b0e51dfa09c45.jpg) From this Tumblr Blog : [Man as Art](https://awesomemanasart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> EDIT 8/23/20  
> Ghoulizard made ART for my fic!!!! Adding into the fic directly, but also posting the link to the tumblr post in the end notes! Isn't it awesome? make sure to reblog and share!

It wasn’t the _worst_ thing to have happened to Bucky in his lifetime, not by far.

Hell, he’d gone to war, been captured, tortured, rescued, fallen to his (apparent) death, rescued (by the bad guys this time) and tortured _again_. He was brainwashed and turned into a mindless thing doing unspeakable horrors. He’d been frozen, experimented on and outlived everybody he’d known and loved except Steve –

But this… this was what was going to end Bucky.

“Clint, put on a goddamn shirt, will you?” he hissed, trying not to stare openly at Clint’s abs or biceps.

“It’s a million degrees out here, Buck,” Clint groaned. “No _way_ I’m putting that stuffy shirt back on. I don’t know how you can even _stand_ it!”

Bucky couldn’t, as a matter of fact, stand it. But if he took off his shirt, they’d be made in an instant. Tony’s camo skin for Bucky’s arm had been damaged in the last firefight and then their cover had been blown, their ride destroyed and they were booking it like bats out of hell to get to the nearest back up extraction point.

This meant they’d hitched a ride on a local’s boat, hoping to _hell_ the man _wasn’t_ on the payroll of the group Bucky and Clint had come down here to take care of. Because _that_ would be awkward.

And just Bucky’s luck, as per the last _century._

He blew out a breath and pushed back the sweaty strands of hair that had escaped the hair tie. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he _should_ cut it. Just, Bucky hadn’t been ready, yet. Plus, it came in handy when he needed to hide his face from Clint because he couldn’t stop _staring_ , or because Clint had made him blush – _again._

It was strategic, that’s all.

Bucky resolutely looked away from Clint where he lay, stretched out, all that golden skin on display, and swallowed, taking in the rest of the boat as if he hadn’t already done so half a dozen times. While Clint had distracted the owner, Bucky had gone over nearly every inch of it the previous night when they’d bribed their way aboard after they’d ditched as much of their ‘conspicuous’ clothing and gear as possible and still stay safe.

Which meant that Bucky was down to his arm, 3 knives and one gun for weapons and he felt naked as fuck. Clint had at least two knives and he’d refused to part with his bow – but at least that could fold down into something less noticeable. They’d exchanged their tac vests and uniforms for something way more _tacky and touristy_ – where the fuck had Clint found such obnoxious colored shirts and shorts anyway? – before approaching the boat with their duffels and that, coupled with the money, had done the trick.

But it didn’t leave Bucky feeling any less exposed, despite the cover of trees overhanging the twisting river they were navigating. Holding back the groan at the growing itch in the center of his shoulder blades, Bucky stayed where he was, sat on the roof of the main cabin overlooking the deck. The boat wasn’t small, though it wasn’t one of the luxury things Tony kept, or one of those old Casino Barges Bucky used to hear tell about when he was a kid, but it big enough, being that it was a working boat that doubled as a houseboat. That meant it had not only living quarters for 4 below decks, but also room for storage – the hold, Bucky was sure it was called.

Currently, though, it was just the three of them aboard – Clint, Bucky and the captain of the ship. The captain wasn’t overly friendly, but he didn’t seem suspicious of them either. Still, you couldn’t be too careful, and so Bucky watched the shoreline as they putted on by, slower than he would have liked, but at least faster than trying to push through the tangled terrain on foot.

Hours crawled by like that, with Bucky sweating profusely and his clothing sticking uncomfortably to his skin, Bucky’s eyes constantly drawn away from the passing landscape to better appreciate… a different landscape entirely, with its own dips and valleys and –

He cleared his throat and tore his gaze away once more.

At some point, the captain came out of the cabin, scratched at his stomach and yawned, muttering to himself. Bucky made sure to listen, his enhanced hearing easing the way, but the captain seemed to be exactly what he’d appeared, and the muttering was just the typical appreciation of the summer heat. Which was to say, not very.

It was only a chance glint from the trees ahead that gave Bucky any warning, and he lurched into motion faster than he could open his mouth to shout a warning to Clint or the captain –

And then the boat exploded as something hit it – probably a rocket launcher or the equivalent there of, Bucky thought grimly, as the air filled with noise, smoke, fire and debris.

“Clint!” Bucky shouted. There was a loud splash to his left and he had to hope that Clint had dove over the side.

Fuck, their intel. Their supplies. All of it was still in the room below decks that they’d been given to share, cramped as it was with a single cot. He couldn’t see any sign of Clint or the captain, but he heard the whistle of another incoming round and Bucky knew he couldn’t waste any time.

He ducked past the broken doorway and surged down the strange ladder/stairs of the boat, banging against the walls of the narrow corridor as the boat jerked and shuddered and creaked around him. Thankfully, theirs was the first room off the hall, and he reached inside, grabbing both duffels with one hand and whirling about to get out of there –

And then the second-round hit, then a third, and a fourth – _talk about overkill,_ Bucky thought, as the boat fell down around his ears and water flooded inside. It wasn’t enough to take _him_ out, but it’d slow him down and if they had more ordinance of the same caliber…

Clint could be on his own.

Noise rushed him and Bucky felt the edges of his vision turning black. Fuck, had he been hit by something other than the boat? His pain tolerance and receptors had been all fucked up after years of torture and experimenting from HYDRA, and when pumped up on adrenaline, he tended to lose his ability to keep track of injuries.

As the Asset, he’d not been allowed to acknowledge them, nor allowed to let an injury slow him down, no matter how bad.

No, he couldn’t leave Clint out here alone, vulnerable. Bucky struggled to push through the debris, weighed down by the water, and the bags and the damn arm. He managed to break the surface and pull in a gasping breath, and then Clint was there, looping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Clint spluttered, relief filling his voice. “I know you’re kinda tough to take down but that was a lot of firepower hitting the boat and you were under a long damn time.” Clint pulled him through the water toward the shore and Bucky pushed and twisted till he could help, kicking his feet and propelling them along, wincing as something pulled in his leg, but he pushed through it.

They couldn’t afford for him not to.

They made it to the shore, and Bucky wanted to collapse right then and there, but they didn’t dare. He glanced back at the wreckage of the boat, lit up by flames that were slowly going out as the boat sank. “The captain?”

“Didn’t make it.” Clint grimaced. “And those guys are still out there.” He tugged at a bag and Bucky gave it to him, willing his fingers to release.

Then he blinked. Shit. Where was the other bag? He could have sworn he’d grabbed both of them. Clint was mumbling as he rummaged through the duffel, pulling out weapons and gear. The gun was useless, waterlogged as it was, and he wasn’t sure the bow was much better. That meant they were down to knives and they didn’t even know how many of them were out there.

“Fuck, no Tac vests, no uniforms, no ammo,” Clint muttered. “Fuck, and no first aid kit and you’re bleeding.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bucky said. “I heal. You know that.”

“Sure, but not as fast as Steve does,” Clint protested. Bucky ignored him, strapping his knives onto his body and giving the rest of the bag a cursory glance. The intel was there, in its waterproof case at least. Clothes, apparently, were a lost cause. Clint was going to be going in, under armed and wearing almost nothing.

“Still faster than you. I promise, I’m fine. You stay back,” Bucky said, ripping open one of his pouches and pulling out the com bud and thanking god it was waterproof. He inserted it into his ear and tapped it on. “I’ll need your eyes.”

“I don’t like this,” Clint said.

“Neither do I, but we’re sitting ducks out here. I told you, I’ll be fine,” Bucky said. He gave Clint a small grin. “Got the best eyes watching my back, after all.”

Mouth in a grim line – and that was not a good look on Hawkeye at all – Clint nodded. He blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

They practically crawled through the trees along the shore, keeping the river in sight but using them as cover. Clint went high, Bucky stayed low, the unbearable heat now only a prickle of awareness in Bucky’s mind. He held a knife at the ready and scanned his surroundings. If his estimates were correct, they hadn’t actually been all that far from the extraction point. If they could get through these guys, they might actually make it.

Bucky froze as his ears picked up movement. Of course, these guys would be coming to them, coming to confirm the kill. Smart. If they knew who was on the boat, they shouldn’t assume they’d killed him. Swiveling to put his back to a tree, he waited them out, knowing Clint would have a better view.

Sure enough, the earbud crackled to life and Clint’s voice echoed softly in his ear. They’d learned through trial and error just how soft Clint could talk and Bucky would still pick up. No way Clint would be giving away his position, even if he was right on top of them.

“Five guys, one directly behind your position. The others are at 3, 4, 7 and 8. Guy in the back has the rocket launcher, everyone else is carrying standard issue handguns.” There was a pause, then, “8 and 7 are almost at your position, I’m gonna take out the grenade launcher dude.”

Shit. Fuck. Of course he was. So fucking… God-fucking-dammit, Clint didn’t even have any fucking _clothes_ on and he was going after the man with the fucking rocket launcher! What the ever-loving fuck was Bucky’s life?

He didn’t have any time to ponder that before everything was in motion. He whirled around the tree, slashing out and catching the first man in the gut with his knife, spinning about to stomp his boot into the chest of the second man before following up with a full body punch.

He could hear the sounds of a tussle to his left as he ducked a shot from gut guy, sweeping his leg out. It wasn’t a clean sweep, bushes and roots and what else in the way, but he managed to unbalance the man enough to knock the gun out of his hand. As he moved, Bucky got a glimpse of the man who’d previously held a rocket launcher, now lying prone, a knife flung with unerring accuracy.

Dammit.

That meant Hawkeye was down to one blade.

What the hell _was_ it with stupid blonds and risk taking anyway?

Clint was now grappling two on one, still clad only in the pants he’d been wearing when he went overboard. He was barefoot and had one blade. Bucky’s limbs moved on instinct as he fought to take down the men around him, to reach Clint’s side before it was too late –

He grunted as a blow knocked him back and he dragged his attention where it should be. Gut guy was pretty damn resilient, taking the time Bucky had been occupied with the second man to recover his gun and aim it at Bucky’s head.

Focusing on him, Bucky snapped forward grabbing the gun and ripping it from his hand. A rustle came from behind him and he whirled, flipping the gun and shooting. As the man fell, he turned back to the first one, the man with the gut wound, and finished him off, ready to go to Clint’s aid if he needed it.

Clint, as unprepared as he was, was resourceful, and holding his own just fine, but Bucky strode forward anyway, prepared to step in if needed, keeping a keen eye on the thin trails of blood along Hawkeyes side, a gouge right across his cheek.

Bucky wasn’t needed, the man dropping as Clint took care of him. Not for nothing was Hawkeye an Avenger, after all. Didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t be pissed at Clint for taking risks, though. He strode forward, Clint turning and wiping at his head, shoving sweat and hair out of his face as he grinned – then his eyes widened.

“Buck – look out!” he shouted.

Something slammed into Bucky’s back, knocking him to his knees. He hit the ground and came back up in a spin to find a sixth man, closing fast. He barreled into Bucky and the two of them grappled – the man was stronger than he looked – but eventually, enhancements and Wakandan engineering won out and Bucky was left the victor. He stood there, chest heaving, eyes darting around. Were there more of them out there?

“Bucky? Okay man, you gotta sit down. You’re uh, you’re bleeding pretty badly.” Clint’s voice held a forced calm and Bucky took a breath and took stock of himself. That was hard to do when his vision kept going fuzzy. What the…

He stumbled and tripped, hand going out to catch himself on the trunk of a tree, Clint at his side and grabbing him around the waist. He took a moment to breath, then another, before opening his eyes and trying to focus. Clint’s face swam before him, his skin was colder than it should be and his fingers were going numb.

“Dosed…” he choked out. How many blows had he just taken because it wouldn’t do shit? How many hits had he shrugged off as inconsequential in the moment because he was too focused on pushing through to the end? How many had been a needle intended to take down a super soldier? a tiny pinprick was _nothing_ in the grand scheme of things.

“Dammit, Buck, you promised you’d be fine!” Clint grunted as Bucky fell forward, leaving Clint to take his weight.

“M’sorry,” Bucky slurred. His eyes were heavy. Whatever they’d dosed him with, it was hitting him hard, his adrenaline probably carrying it through his system faster.

“Don’t die on me, Bucky.” Clint’s voice was a whisper of sound, the last thing he heard before his body went completely limp and everything went dark.

* * *

When Bucky came to, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t dreaming.

He was half naked, covered in makeshift bandages that were… really, really colorful and awfully familiar. There was the sound of running water, the swish as something moved through it. He was rocking, the scenery gliding around him in a swaying, dizzying manner, both of which made his guts want to wretch and hurl over the side of the… canoe?

Where the hell had a canoe come from? With effort, he raised his head, stomach churning the whole while, his gaze following along the lines of the boat as they tapered and pointed at –

Clint.

A one hundred percent _naked_ Clint towing the canoe out into the river that they had so recently been forced to abandon. The toned and tanned muscles of his back and shoulders were on clear display and as breathtaking mouthwatering as usual but it was his _ass_ that was right in Bucky’s view and he couldn’t hold back the whimper that slipped out. Clint turned, the boat bumping up against him before it halted. He was looking at Bucky in concern and Bucky –

Bucky was just trying to fight back the flush and struggled to keep his eyes from falling too far downwards.

“Where the fuck are your pants?” he croaked desperately.

“You’re wearing them,” Clint said with a shrug, wading closer to Bucky’s side but keeping a good grip on the canoe. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Bucky blinked and looked back down at himself. Oh. Well. That’s why his bandages looked familiar. Clint’s absolutely ridiculous on the run pants. Jesus – “Where’s your underwear?” Bucky blurted, the color draining from his face in mortification.

“Wasn’t wearing any,” Clint said, as if he wasn’t blowing Bucky’s mind, walking around all naked and golden and rippling muscle with every shift, step and movement.

Bucky swallowed.

Of course he wasn’t.

Trying to get back on track, he said, “What’s going on? How’d we get a canoe?”

“After I patched you up – dude, you were definitely dosed with something, cause your bleeding hasn’t stopped – I scouted ahead a bit, found a couple of these tied up to the bank and it’s not like I can carry you through the woods.” Clint’s hand found Bucky’s head and he held the back of it against Bucky’s skin. “Figure they belonged to those guys. Not that big, probably only two per boat with room for some supplies and there were three boats total, so, odds are good we took care of the lot. Managed to drag you to the shore and into the boat – which wasn’t easy, by the way - got you comfy and started on our way.”

“Why aintchya in the boat?” Bucky mumbled. Clint took his hand away from Bucky’s head with a frown.

“No room with you laid out like that,” Clint said. “Besides, the water feels great right now. It’ll just take us longer to get to the extraction point. But if we stick close to the shore, we won’t be _as_ exposed as we could be.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Think yer pretty exposed as it is,” he croaked.

Clint grinned. “Why, Bucky, am I offending your old time sensibilities?”

“I’m _not_ Steve,” Bucky protested as Clint ran his hands over Bucky’s bandages, obviously checking him over. Jesus, he was covered in more bandages then he’d seen in a long damn time on anyone other than Clint.

“You sure about that? You’re pretty damn red,” Clint said.

“It’s the heat and the sun,” Bucky tried. Clint flashed him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him before sighing and leaning back.

“Sure, whatever. Okay, you’re no worse, and your temperature is down a little, at least, so that’s good. Thirsty?”

Bucky nodded and Clint reached into the canoe around his feet and came up with a canteen and handed it over. Bucky winced as he shifted to take it, then unscrewed the top and took a couple of swallows. Lukewarm water went down his dry throat and it felt wonderful, almost like heaven. Clint moved back up to the head of the canoe and started tugging it along again, once more giving Bucky an absolutely unobstructed view of… of _everything._

How was this man so beautiful? And so unabashed about it, despite the scars that littered his body? Bucky hated uncovering any more than necessary, especially if it exposed his scarring. Not that he was capable of holding on to many scars with his enhanced healing, but it wasn’t Steve levels of healing and there was only so much that could be done where his arm met his shoulder.

Nor had the enhanced healing dealt with the scars he’d accumulated pre experiments.

Which he was actually grateful for, as he was coming back to himself after his escape from HYDRA. Bucky had traced his fingers over a number of his scars, recalling how they happened. It was a road map of his life, and if HYDRA had managed to erase those as well as his mind… he swallowed.

Focusing on Clint’s back and his backside, Bucky pushed away those thoughts. His eyes, allowed to wander unseen and unjudged by any, traced over the various scars on Clint’s body, noting there wasn’t much of a tan line where pants should have covered his skin, the color tapering off gradually before ending in paler skin on the globes of his ass, and Bucky’s mind whited out at the thought of Clint going around naked a hell of a lot more often than Bucky had realized..

Did Clint sun himself on the roof of Avengers Tower?

Jesus, the thought made Bucky far too hot for so few clothes.

Actually, he was getting pretty damn hot, he realized. He wiped a hand over his sweat caked brow and jerked his hand back with a muttered curse. Fuck, the metal was heating up with direct contact with the sun. He shifted, rocking the little canoe as he grabbed for the duffel sitting at his feet. There had to be _something_ left so that he could cover the metal.

“What are you doing?” Clint asked, turning again, the boat slowing to a stop. Bucky hissed as he bent over, trying to reach the bag. “No, no, stop that,” Clint said, batting Bucky’s hands away. “You’re going to exacerbate things. No bleeding out on my watch, y’hear me? You already broke your promise. What do you need?”

“Gotta cover my arm. Too hot. What promise?” Bucky let Clint push him back in the canoe, the cool touch of wet fingertips a blessed relief.

“The one that said you were fine and not to worry. Well, newsflash, you’re _not_ fine,” Clint said. “Whatever they drugged with you got you good. Who were those guys anyway? They weren’t our marks and they didn’t _look_ like HYDRA, so how’d they get their hands on something designed especially for someone like you?”

Bucky shrugged as Clint gently extracted a torn shirt and draped it over his arm. “Who knows,” Bucky said. “Even organizations like HYDRA’s gotta have malcontents, people just looking to get rich quick. Bet it was sold on the black market. Now that HYDRA’s in pieces, I bet a lot of stuffs getting looted or sold off. Those guys might not even know what they had.”

“Good for us, I guess,” Clint said. “So basically, they were just opportunists. Probably hired out to look for us, saw you sittin’ pretty on top of the cabin and decided to take a shot.”

“We’ve just got to hope they didn’t radio it in first,” Bucky said.

Clint winced. “Shit, yeah, you all set? Probably should keep moving. At this pace, we might hit the extraction point by nightfall.”

Bucky shook his head. “Help me sit up and then get your ass in the goddamn boat. With those arm muscles, we can push that up a few hours.”

“You starin’ at my ass?” Clint joked.

“You keep flashin’ it at me, why shouldn’t I?” Bucky growled, all the pain of his injuries and frustrations boiling over together, taking it out where he least wanted it to go – on Clint. But it was all too much. Frustration at having an ill-advised crush on Clint, at being tortured with the sight of him naked and his close proximity and the way he never hesitated to touch Bucky – something Bucky, touch starved as he was, usually loved. Frustration at being stuck in the middle of nowhere, bleeding out and getting weaker by the second – though he dared not tell that to Clint – which meant he’d be practically useless if it came down to another fight.

They had to get out of here faster than they were.

Clint didn’t respond to his anger, letting it flow over him much the way he normally did whenever anybody on the team got loud or angry. If he wasn’t outright disappearing, anyway. There was something there, some story that Bucky knew would turn his blood cold, and normally Bucky tried to rein it in, to be gentler around Clint, but right now, everything was too much.

He felt guilty though and he sighed, closed his eyes and laid his head back in the canoe. It wasn’t comfortable, not by a longshot and within seconds Clint was touching his head again. “Shit, I thought you were cooling down.”

“S’just the sun,” Bucky slurred.

There was silence for a moment and then the canoe started rocking, tipping and Bucky lurched and groaned. Clint’s hands were on his shoulders, his waist, a cooling brand against his skin. “Work with me Buck, we’re gonna shift you forward so you can use me as a backrest, okay?”

“I can sit up on m’own,” Bucky said, putting in an effort to move just as Clint was urging him too. He could do this. He’d been the Asset; he’d finished missions while worse off than this. Clint didn’t need to worry about him.

Though it was kinda sweet of him that he was.

“Sure ya can,” Clint agreed easily. It took some maneuvering and a lot of sloshed water over the sides, but eventually Clint was sitting in the canoe and Bucky was leaning against him.

Against all that bare skin that was both cooling and too hot at the same time. Bucky’s head swam and he let it loll on Clint’s collarbones, breathing in the smell of Clint, now mixed with the water and the trees and blood, but underneath it all, undeniably him. Clint shifted under him and started awkwardly paddling the boat down the river, his arms coming up around Bucky as they shifted the double paddle back and forth.

Lulled by Clint’s scent, his warmth, his touch, Bucky drifted. Clint chattered softly as they went but Bucky was starting to fade in and out, only catching bits and pieces here and there.

“C’mon, Bucky, talk to me,” Clint said. “It’s your turn, my throat’s getting hoarse.” There was something odd tinting Clint’s words but Bucky couldn’t pick up on it.

“Mmm… too tired t’talk,” Bucky mumbled.

“Just try for me, yeah? Anything, something, just, I need you to stay awake, Bucky, or, uh, I might go crazy.”

“Mmm… didja know ya smell good, doll?” he mumbled, turning his head to better nuzzle into Clint’s chest. “Always love the way ya smell. An’ yer biceps are the kind to write home about an’ yer killin’ me with the naked bit, paradin’ around the tower half naked all the time and now _this_ an’ I can’t say nothin’ but yer so gorgeous sweetheart an’ I’m so fuckin’ sweet on ya, Steve’s been laughin’ his goddamn ass off.”

There was an indrawn breath, different than the rise and fall beneath his head, stuttering, breaking the pattern, jostling Bucky’s head and making him moan. When was the last time he’d felt this bad? The rowing paused and a hand brushed his head again and Clint swore.

“Fuck, Bucky, we gotta get you outta here. You need help so bad, and I can’t do a damn thing for you. You better not die on me, you hear? Now that I know this isn’t one sided, you are _not_ allowed to die,” Clint said, his words sounding oddly choked. “And when you’re all better, and we get to laugh about this, Nat’s going to stand there and say ‘I told you so’ and I’m going to take you out on a date.”

The words jumbled together in Bucky’s brain, almost making sense, but not quite. What was Clint going on about? Nat wasn’t here. Clint shifted under him and the jostling got worse. Bucky pried his eyes open to realize they were moving faster – or maybe that was his head spinning? Who the fuck knew at this point?

“We’re almost there, Bucky,” Clint said. “Hang in there.”

“I am,” Bucky mumbled slowly, realizing suddenly that he _was._ Both hands gripping Clint’s thighs – his naked, naked thighs, all soft skin, hard muscle and patches of hair except where there were scars. He let his fingers squeeze Clint’s thighs and listened to Clint’s breathing jump again, causing Bucky’s head to jump too, his brain jangling unpleasantly inside. “Gotta hang on, cause the worlds upside down. Don’ let me fall, Clint, please.”

Vertigo swished through him, dizziness forcing his eyes closed and his fingers to spasm on Clint’s thighs. There was a harsh breath, a pained hiss that he felt vaguely guilty for and then there was a bump and Clint was moving, scrambling and Bucky was whimpering as he was lifted – he helped, he tried to help, pushing with his feet but Clint was swearing – and then there were more hands, pulling him away from Clint, voices going over his head and the world was falling -

He was falling –

“Don’ let me fall,” Bucky gasped out, reaching – “I can’t fall again –“

“You’re not falling, Buck, I got ya,” Clint said, grabbing Bucky’s hand and squeezing. “Help’s here, they were waiting for us. We’re going home, okay?”

Relief pulled at him and then everything went dark again.

* * *

The next time he woke, Bucky was feeling much closer to normal. Weak maybe, a little, but not dizzy anymore at least. He pushed up on his elbows and looked around. It was his own room – the team had learned long since that Bucky waking up in hospital or lab- esque room was not good for him or anyone around him – and he wasn’t alone.

Steve was sat in an armchair, a sketchbook on his lap. He was awake and he caught Bucky’s eye and smiled softly, nodding his head at something on Bucky’s other side.

When he turned that way, he saw Clint, sprawled out and wrapped in bandages – clean, white ones, and not the garish ripped clothing they’d been wearing – in a different armchair, snoring softly. His freckles were more pronounced across his cheekbones from their little adventure, disappearing under the band aid decorating his cheek. Scruff dotted his chin roughly, even more so than usual. One of Clint’s hands was stretched out in Bucky’s direction, just barely touching the bed, and he looked like a twisted up pretzel in the too small chair, legs hanging over one arm, neck draped over the other.

“He’s been there the whole time,” Steve said softly. Bucky didn’t look at Steve. Instead he moved, rolling to his side, taking note of the lack of pain, the lack of dizziness, and he tucked one arm under his pillow, the other reaching for Clint, their fingers just barely brushing, as light a contact with Clint as he could manage and still touch, as light as Clint was with the bed. Then Clint’s fingers twitched, curling around Bucky’s. Bucky’s breath stuttered, but Clint didn’t wake. Exhaustion was clearly writ over his features.

“Kept saying you needed him to stay and he was damn well gonna,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Nearly threw a fit when the doctors kicked him out.”

“How bad was it?” Bucky asked, barely a breath of sound. He didn’t want to wake Clint, but then a flicker of Bucky’s eyes took in that he didn’t need to worry.

“Pretty bad. It… it was a pretty near thing, Buck,” Steve said. “I almost lost you again. If we hadn’t been there when you guys reached the extraction point…”

Steve paused, making that sound that meant he was breathing in through his nose and trying to keep calm.

“He said you guys guessed you’d been dosed with something. Tony and Bruce ran some tests with the help of Dr. Cho and it looks like you were. It was a serum inhibitor, pretty nasty stuff, coupled with something that weakened your immune system and… it was bad. You weren’t healing any of the damage from the explosion, or the fight after. Then you took an infection from something in the water which was bad enough, but then you _also_ got an infection from the metals in all the hardware HYDRA left behind.” Steve’s chair creaked and his voice grew muffed and Bucky could guess he was leaning forward, running his hands over his face, clutching at his hair. “We don’t actually know if those guys knew what they were doing but, knowing or not, they did a lot of damage. You’ve been out for a couple of days.”

“And he’s been here the whole time?” Bucky asked. He had this vague memory of… of something, but he had a lot of those so he didn’t push it.

“Yeah, except when you first came in and the doctors chased him out, and then more doctors chased _him_ down.”

“But he’s okay, right Stevie?”

“Yeah, some bumps and bruises. A couple of scratches, only two deep enough to warrant stitches, and not even that many at that. Bruised ribs, but for Clint, that’s actually pretty light,” Steve said. “What I don’t get, is why he was buck ass naked, _Buck_.”

Bucky flushed, glad he wasn’t facing Steve, and then froze as Clint stirred. He tried to pull his hand away but Clint’s fingers tightened on Bucky’s in a powerful grip he was unwilling to fight. He could hurt Clint if he did, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Clint blinked his eyes open and when he saw Bucky was awake, he scrambled up, his legs swinging down and pushing him to sit up straight before he hunched in close to Bucky, one hand still caught in Bucky’s but the other reaching for Bucky’s face, tucking back a strand of hair as Bucky stared, wide eyed at Clint.

“Hey,” Clint said, the word gentle, but a little too loud.

The armchair scraped behind them, unheard by Clint, as Steve stood, clearing his throat. “I’ll leave you two kids alone.”

Bucky swallowed. “Hey,” he said, his voice too rough to vocalize it, not that he needed to, Clint watching his lips for the shape of it.

“So, you kinda broke a promise to me back there,” Clint said, edging a little closer.

“I did?” Bucky asked brow furrowing. “I don’t remember making any promises.”

“The one that said you were fine and were gonna _be_ fine.”

“I _am_ fine, ain’t I? So, it wasn’t a lie. I don’t break promises,” Bucky said.

“Yeah? That mean we’re going on a real date too?” Clint said. The words were tremulous, the fingers woven in between Bucky’s were twitching and Clint’s eyes were hopeful and a tiny bit scared. “Cause you said, and I’m gonna hold you to it, if you really meant it.”

Bucky didn’t remember saying any such thing, but – “I meant it. I – I’d love that, more than anything but… You don’t mind?” Bucky asked.

“Fuck, no,” Clint bit out. “Why would I mind?”

There were so many reasons that were coming to mind but… but Bucky knew that Clint was keenly aware of all the things Bucky could have said, all the reasons he could point out as to why Clint and Bucky dating was a bad idea. After all, he already dealt with all Bucky’s issues on a daily basis.

And…

He already dealt with all of Bucky’s issues on a daily basis and he hadn’t been scared off yet.

“You and me, Buck, two peas in a pod, shouting defiance into the universe and snatching back the happiness all those fuckers tried to take away from us. Whaddya say?”

“I say-” Bucky took a breath, staring into Clint’s eyes, “I say we’ve already wasted too much time dancin’ ‘round each other, and not the good kind, either. So, if this is somethin’ you want, I say let’s go out on that date, let’s go out dancin’ for real.”

Clint’s eyes twinkled at Bucky’s words and a wide grin, that infectiously beautiful smile that brought Bucky out of most funks and made him want to smile back, even when he’d thought he’d forgotten how, spread over Clint’s face.

“Great,” Clint said, nearly wriggling in place.

Almost shyly, Bucky gave Clint a tug, rolling back on the bed to make space. “If I remember correctly, I spent most of that canoe trip draped all over you. Feel like I owe you somethin’ similar.”

“You askin’ me to climb into your bed for a snuggle?” Clint was wriggling even more now and it was making Bucky’s brain melt to see. He blushed at the question and nodded and the next thing he knew, he had two armfuls of happy, wriggling Clint, tucking his tall frame around Bucky and pressing their faces close.

“Wait, is this really happening? This ain’t some fever dream, is it?” Bucky blurted suddenly, fear making his heart pound in his chest. Clint’s hand, the one that wasn’t still holding Bucky’s, came up to press against his chest, right over his heart.

Chuckling softly, Clint shook his head. “No, not a dream.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Bucky’s, slowly, gently, deepening the kiss, their mouths moving together languidly, feeling pooling deep inside of Bucky as he got kissed within an inch of his life, but oh, what a way to go. “That real enough for you?” Clint asked, as if Bucky’s toes weren’t curling from the kiss.

“Don’t know, sweetheart, think we might have to try it again,” Bucky said breathlessly.

Clint threw him a sly smirk. “I’m definitely okay with that,” he said, leaning in to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable Tumblr Post](https://pherryt.tumblr.com/post/621277409113751552/pherryt-man-overboard-marvel-ship-winterhawk)  
> also, happy birthday Clint! :D
> 
> EDIT 8/23/20
> 
> [ Ghoulizard's rebloggable Art post on Tumblr](https://ghoulizard.tumblr.com/post/627014981867732992/my-illustration-of-a-scene-from-pherryt-s)


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